


Pavel Chekov Is Extremey Underrated Part V: The Ghost(s) In The Machine

by theimpossiblegirl39



Series: Pavel Chekov is Extremely Underrated [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BAMF Chekov, Chekov is awesome, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossiblegirl39/pseuds/theimpossiblegirl39
Summary: With weird malfunctions, crazy happenstance, and a very confused crew, trouble is brewing on the Enterprise. But is it really a haunting as everyone believes? Or is it something stranger? Ensign Chekov must race against the clock to save his crewmates and find out.





	

Pavel Chekov was not having a good day, to say the least. 

He had woken up to get ready for his shift, and discovered that his alarm had woken him up an hour late, giving him only 15 minutes to get ready. He’d had to skip the shower and breakfast in order to get dressed and grab a coffee before making his way to the bridge. However, not only did he find a hole in the only clean uniform he had, the replicators seemed to be down, so no coffee. Now in a foul mood, the little Russian headed to the turbolift. He’d gotten all the way past deck three when the turbolift just stopped. Frustrated, Chekov fiddled with the handle, but there was no movement. He was stuck. 

“дерьмовый прославил лифт!” 

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, Chekov flipped open his communicator. “Chekov to Keptin Kirk.”

“Mr. Chekov, Good Morning! How are you this fine morning?”

The Captain’s cheeriness grated on Chekov’s nerves. “I zeem to be stuck een zee turboleeft zir. I’m afraid I might be late zis morning.” 

“Oh no! Not the turbolift too!”

“Zir?”

“All morning we’ve been getting reports of things breaking down. The replicators, the showers, three computers in the science labs, some of Dr. McCoy’s equipment. Now the turbolift. Don’t worry Chekov, I’ll have Scotty send a team up to you.”

“Zank you Keptin. Chekov out.”

Chekov knew there was no way that an engineering team would be there in a timely manner, so he began looking around the lift for the main access panel. Upon finding it, he crouched down and pulled the panel off the wall, and began to try and rewire the system to start working again. 

 

“AHHHH!” Spock paused at the scream that emanated out of the quarters he was currently passing. They belonged to Lieutenant Sulu. Of course, being a Vulcan, Spock wasn’t inclined to say he was curious or even concerned, but a scream sounding from his crewmates quarters did spark a certain… scientific intrigue. 

“Mr. Sulu. Are you in distress?”

“Oh my god!”  
Spock’s brow furrowed in what was definitely not concern. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Sulu?”

“This can’t be happening!”

“Mr. Sulu, I’m coming in.”

“Why me?!”

Phaser at the ready, Spock input his override code and entered to room, only to find himself sloshing in a giant puddle of water. Sulu stood in the doorway to the bathroom hand in the air, an exasperated look on his face, as water rushed into the room from behind him. There would not doubt be serious water damage to the room, some of Sulu’s belongings, and even perhaps the quarters immediately below Sulu’s. 

“Please let this be a dream.” Sulu looked directly at Spock.

“I do not believe you are asleep Mr. Sulu.” Spock holstered his phaser, and pulled out his communicator. “Spock to Mr. Scott.”

“‘Ello Mister Spock. What can I do for ye. As ye might know, I’m a bit preoccupied.”

“Mr. Scott, I believe that whatever is causing the ship wide malfunctions has begun to affect the waste disposal system. There seems to be a flooding toilet in Lieutenant Sulu’s quarters.”

There was a pause, and then a sigh. “I’ll be right up.”

 

Chekov sat on the floor of the turbolift, surrounded by wires and little programming chips scattered around the small space. He’d been fiddling with the system for over an hour, and hadn’t been able to get the turbolift working again, which, as a genius, he wasn’t used to failing at reprogramming. He was becoming steadily more and more frustrated as the time went on. It was as if something was blocking the signals he was sending from reaching the computer. If he didn’t know better, he’d think something was physically sitting in the wall, stopping his progress. 

He was just about to try something else, when the turbolift suddenly moved. It was a slight shift downwards. Chekov froze, waiting to see if it would do it again. It did.  
“Chekov to Meester Scott.”

“Scotty ‘ere.” 

“Have you or any engineers made any progress in zee turboleeft?”

“Aw no laddie. We’ve been sidetracked by a wee plumbing problem in Sulu’s quarters. But I promise laddie, will be there in-”

The turbolift fell some more. It immediately became clear to Chekov that the turbolift was slipping down the shaft for unknown reason, and that any moment it might plummet all the way down forty decks, surely killing Chekov. He had to get out. 

“Meester Scott, ees zere an access panel anywhere in zee turboleeft?”

“Well, ya lad, but why do ye need it? Are ye that restless that ye can’t wait for me to come and-”

“Please Meester Scott. I do not hafe much time.”

“Alright, don’t get yer knickers in a twist. It’s on the back wall by the-”

Chekov found it and immediately pulled it off the wall. The space was small, but he was small too, he would fit. 

“Zank you Meester Scott.”

“Yer welcome laddie, but I still don’t know why ye wanted to know where the panel was.”

Before Chekov had time to answer him, there was a loud screeching noise that echoed through the shaft. He was unaware of it at the time, but the sound ricocheted through the entire ship, startling the crew. Chekov dropped the communicator and grabbed the inside of the small access shaft. It was off center from being stopped between decks so it was a tight squeeze, but he managed to swiftly pull himself through. Just as he did, the screeching sound intensified, and he felt the wind from the falling turbolift press against his back. He turned to watch it fall down the shaft until it was out of sight. He couldn’t help but wonder why it had fallen. The only explanation was that it got too heavy for the system, which was impossible. They were specifically designed to hold all amounts of weight, and there was no way to go over capacity. Besides, Chekov himself didn’t weigh much at all compared to the weight needed to break the turbolift. Shaking his head, he continued to think of possibilities as he crawled down the access shaft into the jefferies tubes. 

 

Dr. Leonard McCoy was very annoyed. He had been woken up by one of his nurses calling a medical emergency: Ensign Walters had been electrocuted by the replicator in the mess. Of course, she had exaggerated; when he got there, it turned out the man had just been shocked a little and was perfectly fine. He would’ve gone back to sleep, except as soon as he turned to leave the infirmary, people began coming in for various malfunction related injuries. So far, he’d had several burns, shocks, one nasty fall in the shower, and by far the most disturbing, Lieutenant Sulu had to be sedated from a hysterical episode brought on by the flooding of his quarters. Now however, he was being beamed down to deck forty two to supposedly scrape what ever was left of Ensign Chekov out of a crashed turbolift. Supposedly, of course, because McCoy was sure that the kid was still alive and most likely perfectly fine. He always came out of these things virtually unharmed. It was like he was indestructible or something. But both Scotty and Jim were having panic attacks over the youngest crew member, so McCoy kept his grumblings to himself. 

“But Bones, he isn’t answering his communicator.”

“So, maybe he dropped it escaping the falling metal deathtrap.”

“Aye, but the laddie would have had to move very quick an’ I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”

“Stop panicking. If you don’t give yourselves a coronary, you’ll give me one. I’ll be right down. Just let me get my medkit.”

When he and Nurse Chapel beamed down, Kirk, Scotty, Uhura, and Spock were standing next to the wreckage. Sulu would’ve probably been there too but he was sleeping up in the infirmary still. The wreckage was pretty gruesome, and the wall had been ripped apart by the force. If Chekov had been in that turbolift when it fell, there was no way he was alive. McCoy silently sent a quick prayer to whatever deity was above that he was right and Chekov managed to escape. 

After a few moments of shifting through the wreckage, McCoy concluded what he originally thought was true. Chekov was not in the crash. His communicator, however, had been. 

“See, I told you that you were all panicking for no reason. This is Chekov we’re talking about. The kid is like a cat with nine lives.”

“Where is he then? Why hasn’t he popped up somewhere, completely and inexplicably unharmed?” Uhura asked.

At that exact moment there was a loud thud, and a clang, followed by an “Ow”. The jefferies hatch on the ceiling opened up and out tumbled none other than Pavel Chekov. 

“Ah, there he is now.” McCoy drawled, unimpressed. 

“Pavel, laddie, are ye alright?”

“Da, Meeter Scott. I am fine. I vas able to open zee hatch before the turboleeft fell.” 

“It was very fortunate you were able to escape ensign.”

“Zank you Meester Spock. I find I am wery good at escaping zertain death.” 

“You sure do Chekov. Now that we know Chekov’s okay, I think it’s time to have a command crew meeting.” The Captain announced. 

“Aye Keptin, but do you zink I could use zee leetle ensign’s room first? I vas stuck in zere for a wery long time.”

 

The command crew of the Enterprise sat around the conference table in bewilderment. They had just finished reading Scotty’s report on all the malfunctions that had occurred on the ship since early in the morning. So far there were 86 different malfunctions, and no one had any idea why they were happening. People were beginning to panic about using anything without knowing if it would suddenly electrocute them. Eleven people had already called out sick after the turbolift incident. Kirk was beside himself. 

“There has to be some explanation. The whole ship wouldn’t just start falling apart like this randomly. Something has to have happened. Perhaps someone is sabotaging it? A stowaway?”

“I have already checked the internal sensors Captain, there aren’t any extra life signs, nor did I pick up on any suspicious activity from the crew.” Spock replied. 

“Are there any anomalies we may have come across in the space around us?” Uhura asked.

“Not that our sensors can read Lieutenant Uhura. There seems to be no logical explanation for the multitude of malfunctions the ship is experiencing.”

“Well, there is one. But I highly doubt it to be true.” Sulu interjected. 

“Vat is it Hikaru?”

“Well, the word going around between the rest of the crew is that the ship might be haunted.”

The whole room stared at Sulu, perplexed. “Mr. Sulu, there is no such thing as ghosts. That’s just something people tell kids to scare them and be cruel.” McCoy said finally. 

“Well, there may not be any scientific proof, but there is certainly no proof that they don’t exist. 

“I agree with Mr. Sulu.” The room stared once again, this time at Spock. “Spock, have you lost your mind?”

“There is no scientific evidence confirming or denying the existence of ghosts, or ‘spirits’. They have been apart of many cultures throughout the development of many civilizations, even beyond Earth. Because of so many universal superstitions and fables based around the idea of a life after death on the same plane of existence as our own, it would be illogical to dismiss it as an impossibility.”

“But I thought you Vulcans didn’t like to acknowledge that there was some things even you didn’t know?” McCoy asked grumpily. 

“While that tends to be true, we have learned our lesson, so to speak, from past events. One hundred years ago, when Earth first began to travel in space, Vulcans dismissed the existence of time travel. It was later proved to be a possibility by the first hand encounter of a Vulcan named T’pol and a crew of humans. Since then, Vulcans have reserved judgement on a theory’s existence until after it has been scientifically proven or disproven. It is illogical to do so otherwise.” 

“So there is a possibility that the ship is haunted?”

“Yes, although it is highly unlikely.” 

The crew sat there mulling over the idea that ship may or may not be haunted. What were they going to do?

Kirk stood up. “Well, I guess I have to tell the crew that the ship may or may not be haunted. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to explain the situation in a way that puts everyone’s minds at ease.”

 

“Oh my god the ship is haunted! We’re all going to die!” Chekov and Sulu stood in the mess, only fifteen minutes after the Captain had made a ship wide statement about the possible haunting. Needless to say, it did not put anyone’s mind at ease. Instead, it incited a dangerous mass hysteria that was currently sweeping through the crew. Dr. McCoy had employed Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura to take several hyposprays filled if sedative and administer them as needed to any crew members in the throes of a fit. As it happened, it seemed they might need more than half a dozen doses of sedatives, because the entire mess hall was being trashed by 40 panicked crew members. The best they could do until Uhura came back with more was wait and try not to get knocked out by a flying chair. 

“Zese people are zupposed to be Starfleet ofeecers. Zey hawe faced many horrible creatures and foes een zee last few years. But now, vith zee possibility of a ghost, zey behave like chickens vith zere heads cut off. Eet ees deplorable.”

“They might be overreacting, but they’re scared.” Sulu said as he duck to avoid a table as it soared past his head.

“In Russia, ve newer cower in fear or behave like zis. Eef my Бабушка saw me acting like zis, I vould hawe no dinner for a week.” 

“That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

“Nyet, I vould hawe all zee other meals, and most likely zomeone vould sneak me food from zee table, I just couldn’t sit at it. It vas wery fair.” 

Thankful he didn’t grow up with Chekov’s family, Sulu turned to Uhura, reentering the mess with two arms full of hyposprays. 

“Doctor McCoy said that this should be enough for the people in the mess, where the hysteria seems to be worse. We need to sedate everyone and then have them beamed to sickbay immediately so the Doctor can properly help them. Then we have to return for more doses and take care of anyone else on the ship who might be panicking.” 

“More people? This is getting a little ridiculous. We’ve been in worse situations before.”

“Doctor McCoy said it was a matter of psychology, and that it was because up until now everything we’ve dealt with has been an organic being with some sort of sentience that may or may not have feelings and reason. We are familiar with this kind of life. We aren’t however, familiar with things that have sentience and aren’t alive at all. Those kinds of beings hold superstitious meanings with certain crew members and it shouldn't really be surprising that they are, oh how’d he put it? ‘Running around like chickens with their heads cut off.’”

“Oh vell, ve vill just hawe to sedate all zees people.”

Uhura nodded in agreement. “We’d best get a move on before something worse happens.”

Sulu grimaced. “What could possibly be worse?”

 

 

“Well, this is worse.”

James T. Kirk stood in his quarters with his first officer and his Doctor, currently trying to open the door to leave. Bones had just finished reading him the riot act about not being sensitive enough in his announcement of the supposed haunting, inciting mass hysteria and general chaos, and when he had looked to Spock for support, the vulcan had only risen his eyebrow. He’d been about to defend is actually extremely sensitive announcement against his faithless friends, when suddenly he noted on the computer in front of him that the temperature was slowly falling. Of course, this shouldn’t have been possible as life support kept the temperature at a certain degree. So Spock checked the system. And, lo and behold, the life support in only the Captain’s quarters had failed. What luck. And now, surprise surprise, the door was jammed. 

“Jim, we’ve got to get out of here. I have patients that need care, Spock has to figure out what godforsaken anomaly is causing all this craziness, and you need to-” Bones cut off.

“I need to what?”

“Uh, actually, there really isn’t something you can do right now.”

“What? Yes there is.”

“Actually,” Spock interjected. “Doctor McCoy is correct. You would not be needed tactically in this crisis. You would most likely be in here or on the bridge, waiting for others to resolve the problem with skills more appropriate than your own to the situation.”

“Well, I could stop the hysteria by leading by example.”

“Well now I know we’d be doomed.” Bones deadpanned. As usual, no one appreciated Kirk’s talents. And he was the Captain. How was he meant to lead people when they treated him in such a way? 

“Captain! Spock! Doctor! Ye lads okay in there?” A scottish voice from the other side of the door rang into the quarters.

“Scotty! Yes, we are fine, but the life support failed and the door is jammed.”

“Leave it to me sir. Ye all just sit back, keep warm, an’ conserve oxygen and I’ll have ye out in a jiffy.”

“And just how long is a ‘jiffy’ Mr. Scott? Because I have patients to see.”

Kirk sighed. This was going to be a long near death experience.

Scotty scanned the door and the panel that accessed the life support to the Captain’s quarters. It just didn’t make any sense. It was as if the wires had been crossed, cut, or something was blocking the flow of energy by breaking the circuit. But what? It certainly wasn’t something that his engineers would’ve done. He decided that there was only one way to get to the bottom of the problem: find the initial malfunction and try to figure out what went wrong. But he couldn’t just leave the Captain, first officer, and chief medical officer in a room that was losing air. No, he’d have to stay there and do what he could to get the door open, and send someone else to find the malfunction. And he knew just the person. 

 

“Lieutenant Scott to Ensign Chekov.”

Chekov was currently chasing Ensign Jacobs through deck seven with a hypospray, the young man having escaped the mess. 

“Hello Meester Scott.” Chekov dashed down the corridor, weaving side to side to avoid crashing into people.

“Chekov, I need ye to do me a big favor laddie.” Chekov ducked as a crewman stepped out into the corridor flinging his arm out to put on his jacket. 

“I am a leetle busy Meester Scott.” He jumped over someone’s waterlogged couch that they had put in the hall in an attempt to remove the water in the room, most likely from the toilet exploding. 

“I’m sure lad, but the Captain, Spock, an’ McCoy are all stuck in the Captain’s quarters with the door jammed and life support failing.”

Chekov came to a complete stop, tripping over himself and losing his balance, and then tumbled to the ground. 

“Vhat!? Do you need my help opening zee door?” 

“No. I have a much more important thing for ye to do. I need ye to trace all the malfunctions to the initial problem. Then I’m gonna need you to go over there an’ figure out why the ship’s gone haywire. Can ye do that?”

“I can do zat!”

“Good lad. Let me know when ye find the problem. Scott out.”

Chekov knew exactly how to trace the problem. He rushed to teleport room D, and began a ship wide scan, asking the computer to list all the malfunctions in chronological order. 

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Chekov was startled as he looked up and watched Ensign Jacobs run through the door, run three circles around the transport pad, and then run smack into the wall. The ensign fell back, his eyes rolling back into his head, and crumpled to the floor unconscious. Sometimes, people were very weird, Chekov reflected.

“Scan complete.”

The young genius looked down and saw that the computer had finished listing the malfunctions. Scrolling down, he discovered that the original malfunction was one of the fans in the port nacelle that had inexplicably stopped spinning. Quickly beaming Jacobs to sickbay, Chekov ran to go figure out what was going on with the ship and save the others before they ran out air. 

 

“It’s freezing in here Jim. How do you expect us to pry the door open? I can’t feel my fingers.” 

“Well, Scotty’s having too much trouble opening the door, and by the time Chekov figures out what’s going on we might have suffocated or frozen to death, so excuse me for trying to come up with a plan B.”

“It is scientifically proven that sharing body heat will slow down the effects of hypothermia.” Spock suggested.

“Oh no, I am not cuddling with the hobgoblin. I’d rather take on an entire fleet of Klingons with nothing but a hypospray and roll of string.”

“It is statistically improbable that you would survive such an ordeal. However, it is significantly more probable that you would give into ‘cuddling’ so as to avoid dying from exposure to the low temperatures of space.”

“Okay fine, you win. Move over. But I’m warning you, if I die and you two leave my body in such a way it looks I’m snuggling with Spock, I will haunt you, your grandchildren, and your grandchildren’s grandchildren.” 

 

 

Chekov reached the port nacelle much faster through the jeffries tubes then waiting for the only functioning turbolift to take him to engineering, especially since there were so many people trying to use it at once. Pavel had always been more adept at using the jeffries tubes anyway, having memorized their layout when he’d first been assigned to the Enterprise. In fact, he suspected he knew the interior of the ship better than Scotty or Kirk. He had spent many free hours crawling around in there, helping the engineers do routine diagnostics, tracking leaks, repairing damage from the numerous battles the crew had been in, or even just clearing his head.

He kicked open the panel that lead directly into the nacelle and dropped down onto the catwalk. Immediately pulling out a scanner, he started to investigate. It seemed as though all the fans in the nacelle weren’t working, and it was getting hotter and hotter in the room by the second. Had no one ever come up there, it might’ve caught on fire. Chekov would have to figure out what was wrong and try to fix the problem. Finally, he found the fan that had originally stopped working. Switching to a hydrospanner, Chekov removed the panel and found himself staring at the now obvious cause of all the malfunctions. Slapping his forehead, he scolded himself for not guessing it sooner. 

There were Tribbles in the walls. 

The Tribbles had packed themselves into the wall tightly, and were trying to chew on the wiring leading to the fan. They must be in the whole ship, including the plumbing, thought Chekov. That’s why the turbolift had fallen, it was straining under the weight of the Tribbles. Knowing that the Captain and the others had little time to waste, Chekov knew what he had to do. He had to stop the Tribbles from chewing on the electrical circuits. He pulled out his communicator. 

“Attention! Attention! Zis ees Ensign Chekov. Ewery one must step far avay from any valls and any electrical outlets in zee sheep. I hawe discovered the malfunctions to be the result of a Tribble infestation. I am going to send an electric pulse throughout zee vhole sheep to stop zem from chewing on zee vires and restore most of the machinery on board. Please stand back now.” Having rewired the panel beneath the fans to reroute to the whole ship while he was talking, Chekov pointed his phaser at the panel. “I am wery zorry leetle Tribbles.”  
He fired.

“Chekov to Meester Scott!”

“Scott ‘ere.”

“Are zee Keptin, Meester Spock, and Doctor McCoy alright?”

“Aye laddie. The charge worked and they are free men. The life support’s kicked back on too.”

Chekov heaved a sigh of relief, as the fans in the nacelle suddenly burst into action, quickly cooling the room. 

“Tell zee Keptin I vill be down zere in a moment.”

“Will do laddie.”

“Chekov out.”

 

“Well, I’d say that was another crisis averted. And once again, we have Mister Chekov to thank for that.” Captain Kirk addressed his senior officers in the meeting room. “Despite the fact that the engineering team will be cleaning dead Tribbles out of our electrics and plumbing for months, security still has no idea how they even got in here, Sulu’s quarters are still underwater, and I didn’t get any photographic evidence of Bones and Spock cuddling, I’d say it was a job well done.”

“We were not cuddling!”

“Mister Scott, how are the engineering teams doing with finalizing the repairs to the systems that malfunctioned?”

“Almost done sir.”

“Good to hear. Uhura? Any theories at all on how they got on the ship without being noticed?” 

“We aren’t sure, but I’d say we probably picked the up on our last shore leave a week and half ago at that space station, Deep Space Three.”

“Very plausible. Bones, how are the crewmen that panicked doing?” 

“Mostly embarrassed, but no worse off than they were before this fiasco.”

“Kind of like you after cuddling Spock.”

“We were not cuddling!”

“Spock, have we resumed course?”

“Affirmative Captain.”

“Great. Sulu, I’m sorry about your couch.”

“It’s okay Captain. I’ll just stay with Chekov until my quarters have been repaired.”

“I’m glad to hear that. And speaking of the little hero, Chekov, how are you doing?”

“I am in a wery good mood Keptin. Zis morning my shower vas not vorking. As it turns out, it vas not the Tribbles. My faucet head vas a leetle loose, and now it ees all fixed.”

“How ironic. Well, I think that concludes today’s business. Good work everybody.”

The senior officers all stood and turned to leave. As they headed out the door, McCoy shivered, just enough that Kirk noticed. 

“Cold Bones? You know I hear that Vulcans make very nice blankets.”

“For the last time Jim, WE WERE NOT CUDDLING!”

 

Translations: 

дерьмовый прославил лифт= Stupid Glorified Elevator  
Бабушка= Grandmother

**Author's Note:**

> In loving memory of the cutest and most lovable actor Anton Yelchin, who was taken from us much to soon. The night sky has gained another star. Rest In Peace.


End file.
